


l'amour courtois

by saintchrollo



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Grad Student!Chrollo, TA!Chrollo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29649243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintchrollo/pseuds/saintchrollo
Summary: your professor assigned an essay and mandated weekly check ins with the class's ta, once a week. does everyone else find their meetings going way longer than yours? just you? oh, okay.
Relationships: Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	l'amour courtois

The cool winds of February clung to each breeze as you made your way through campus to the literature building. The sun offset the chill, and had melted some of the snow on the sidewalks, though ice salt still stuck to wet patches. The literature building was one of the oldest buildings, and therefore was always far too good at keeping the modern heat inside it’s ancient walls. 

Like always, the building was hot as could be, and you quickly shed your scarf and gloves the moment you set foot inside. After putting them away in your tote, you headed to the top floor where the department had squirreled away all the teaching assistants. Your professor had insisted that there be meetings with the TAs to help flesh out the papers that would make up your final essay. 

Double checking that you were at the right room, you knocked lightly on the half open door. The clicking of keys stopped, and the classical music that had been playing softened until it was no more. 

“Come in,” Came the voice of the TA. 

Pushing open the door, you were immediately thankful that one of the windows was open, creating a much needed airflow. Your TA, Chrollo, sat at a relatively empty desk. It appeared that he was not planning on making the office a home at all. 

“Hi, Chrollo,” You say, entering the office. “Do you want me to close this?” You ask, gesturing to the door. 

“If you’d like,” Chrollo says, and you compromise by leaving it half open. 

It was no secret that most of your classmates found him very attractive. The snapchat group that was made your freshman year had been defunct for a few semesters, until everyone had found out about the new grad student. He had been nicknamed ‘Bandana’ by most people, since no one actually took the time to know his name. 

And now, here you were, sat in his little temporary office, about to pitch your essay idea to him. His jacket hung over the back of his chair, leather and worn, and sat back as you entered. His hands were folded slightly, resting casually right above his belt, a few decorative rings on his fingers. He has the hands of a clocksmith. 

After seating yourself and pulling up your extensive notes of ideas on your iPad, Chrollo's eyes widened slightly, perhaps in surprise. 

“Sorry, I just wrote down most of the things that came to mind,” You explain. The two of you spend ten minutes going through all of your ideas, quickly dismissing them when you realized you were actually interested in them enough to focus on them for the whole semester. 

“Okay, last but not least, and this one is my favorite,” You glance over at Chrollo, who has an expectant and amused look on his face. “I was really drawn to discussing how Béroul’s version of Tristan and Iseult and using King Arthur I could discuss how pre-Napoleonic literature contained free will as it came to love and perusal of desire, and that as humans we have always had wants and needs and desires.” 

After the pitch, you flit your eyes over, slightly nervous, to gauge Chrollo’s reaction. He seems to be deep in thought, looking at the page alongside you. 

“My one thing,” Chrollo says, and you brace yourself. “Napoleon is centuries after Tristan and Iseult, why would you use him as your defining timeline?” 

“Well, he’s a defining moment in French history, and I imagine if I’m focusing on courtly love and how it has to do with free will, I’ll also need to use Marie de France and Christine de Pizan, just to round it out and provide a woman’s perspective on the theme, but I could also use the Knight’s Tale from Canterbury Tales, which I know is on the reading list.” 

Chrollo’s face didn’t change from the thinking face he had on, intense and directly at the screen of your iPad. 

“Have you heard of the Knight in Panther’s Skin? You could probably use that instead of Canterbury Tales. It’s written by a Georgian poet, Rustaveli. Here.” Chrollo rolls his chair back, pulling out a pad of sticky notes and a pen from his bag, and scrawls down the information before handing it over to you. “If you prefer to read things not on screens, I can try to find you my copy. I’m sure it’s somewhere at home.” 

You accepted the sticky note with a grateful smile. “I’d actually really appreciate that.” Instinctively, you wanted to turn down the assistance, but you remind yourself that it’s okay to accept help, it’s okay to let people be kind to you, and, having Chrollo’s personal copy of a book filled you with a warm feeling inside. And, reading on your screens always made you tire faster, and you got distracted far too easily. 

The meeting came to a close, there was someone else waiting to meet with him, and Chrollo didn’t ‘want to keep you late for anything.’ How considerate. Gathering your things, you headed down to the library. You had class later and the homework due in two hours wasn’t going to start itself. 

* * *

As the due date approached, the days (and your meetings with Chrollo) were getting longer and longer. The weather was getting nicer, too, the birds were beginning to sing again, the squirrels were running amuck again, eagerly searching for fresh acorns. 

The windows to Chrollo’s office were open, and over the past few weeks books had slowly started to pile on the desk, various texts that appeared to be for other people’s essays. In the spring, Chrollo seemed slightly out of place among the warming temperatures, the pollen making his nose slightly red and the humidity making his skin glow. 

Having been done speaking about your essay and volleying back and forth small talk for a few minutes, you point casually to Chrollo’s bandana. “Can I ask?” 

Chrollo chuckles, a little self consciously. His fingers dip under the fabric, rubbing his forehead. “Only if you keep it a secret.”

“Oh, so it’s not a fashion choice?” You ask. 

“Well, it is. And I have a tattoo. It’s not very ...” He trails off. “Academically speaking, it’s very distracting.” 

You sat there for a moment, mouth slightly open. Slowly, you close it, remembering that you don’t want to catch flies. How cruel, even if you told people, no one would believe academic, attractive TA Chrollo would have a face tattoo. 

“I bet,” You agree. “Do you regret it?” 

A smile comes across his face, casual and a little bit nostalgic. “Not one bit.” 

Deciding to push your luck a bit, you ask, “Can I see?” 

His smile turned teasing. “If I showed you today, how would I know you’d come back next week to talk about your essay?” 

“As much as I enjoy it, these are mandatory for me to pass my class,” You remind Chrollo. While his face doesn’t quite change, there’s a murkiness in his eyes that appears. 

“I don’t think you need to worry about that, (Y/N),” Chrollo assures you, “You’re doing quite well.” His voice is serious and complete. Your parents really should have complimented you more growing up, given that the small assurance makes your stomach churn and butterflies swirl up into your ribs. 

Self consciously, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you place your iPad back in your bag. “Oh, thank you. It would be nice if my grade got updated, so I could see the proof. Well, let me not keep you for any longer--”

“You’re my last appointment of the day, let me walk out with you,” Chrollo says, collecting his things. He grabs a motorcycle helmet out from under his desk and your eyes widen, drunk off the knowledge you were now in possession of. “Are you heading off campus?” 

* * *

With a pleased smile on your face, you watch the late spring weather outside of Chrollo’s window as he reads over the final draft of your essay. It’s your last meeting, finals start next week, you’re so close to graduating you can taste it. Chrollo hasn’t said anything, he hasn’t typed any comments on the side. Instead, he has a calm look on his face as he reads through the paragraphs. 

Eventually, he sets your iPad back on the desk, an impressed look on his face. “I don’t have any critiques. You could turn it in right now, honestly.” 

You smiled. “You think so?” 

Chrollo nodded. “Definitely. Maybe add a title page, actually. But that’s it. It’s a very good essay.” 

“All thanks to you.” 

“Please, you did most of the legwork. I simply sat here.” 

Was it just you or was the tiny office incredibly hot? “Oh, let me give you back your book, I brought it with me.” 

You pull his copy of The Knight in Panther’s Skin out, handing it to him. He takes it, adding it to a stack of books that was next to his laptop. 

“I appreciate it. Most people try to keep them,” Chrollo says as a thank you. 

Honestly, you had been planning in it, but the entire thing was well worn and highlighted throughout, little notes in the side. “It seemed like it was a favorite. All my books that look like that ... I would be very upset if someone stole one.” 

“Ah, how considerate of you,” Chrollo says, voice gentle as the breeze outside. He opens his mouth, as if to say something, but instead shakes his head slightly and wets his lips quickly. “Any post graduation plans?” 

Humming, you shake your head. “Not really. I have some pieces that are being published in June, but at the end of May I’ll start writing the, um, little horoscopes for the local newspaper, but other than that I’ll just be waitressing like normal.” 

Chrollo leans forwards in interest. “That doesn’t sound like ‘not really,’ (Y/N). It sounds like you have post graduation plans.”

Your face warms up. “I suppose so.” 

“Where do you work?” Chrollo asks. 

“At this little vegan bistro downtown.” 

Chrollo drums the pads of his fingers on his watch, thinking. “Are you vegan?” 

“What is this, twenty questions?” You ask. But you couldn’t even be mad at the questions, talking to Chrollo was as easy as the tides, and you couldn’t lie to yourself: you’d miss your weekly meetings with him. “But yes, I am. Dairy makes my skin break out really bad.” And puke, but you were not about to follow up your vegan statement with the fact you were lactose intolerant and actually followed the dietary restrictions. 

The two of you hold eye contact for a moment. 

“And I had cows growing up. I can’t just ... eat my friends,” You add, feeling a little self conscious. 

Chrollo’s eyes glance up and down, then to your hands, before back to your face. Poe would have a lot to say about his eyes. 

“How many questions have I asked?” Chrollo asks. 

You look up and to the right, trying to recount. “Not twenty.” 

Using his thumb, Chrollo mindlessly adjusts the large, silver ring on his middle finger. For all the hours you’d spent with Chrollo, this was the most nervous you had seen him. Honestly, you had never seen him nervous. 

“Something wrong?” You ask. 

“I don’t want to be a creep.” 

It feels like your entire brain stops. You’d read enough gas station romance novels, but you quickly swallow any assumptions. 

“Why would you be a creep?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. 

With a small chuckle, Chrollo straightens up a little. “If you’d let me, I’d like to take you out to dinner. After, of course, the next few days of testing.” 

You bite the inside of your lip to try and contain your smile, but are unsuccessful. “My last final is on Wednesday,” You say, “Give me your number.” 

Obviously pleased you hadn’t rejected him, Chrollo grabs a sticky note, starting to write down the digits. “Can I not have yours?” 

“I’ll text you when I’m done with my final,” You say, and Chrollo hands the sticky note off with a lazy smile. “And then you can take me out.” 

“I can’t wait,” Chrollo says, then stands with you. He crosses the room and opens the door. 

Standing in the doorway, there’s something horribly unscripted about it. You take a deep breath to try and squash the anxiety building in your chest, over nothing but a normal, human interaction. 

“Talk to you Wednesday,” You say. 

“Until then,” Chrollo confirms. The sparkle in his eyes hasn’t died out. 

You smile at him, and head out of the office and back outside. It smells like magnolias. Everything in your life feels in bloom for the first time in ages. 


End file.
